


Shadow and Soul

by storm_dog_pirate



Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: F/M, Mafia AU, all because the Vincenzo energy is strong, i mostly based my shit on the Godfather so, or aka me trying to channel the Vincenzo chaotic/serious energy in this fic, yeah have this mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 06:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30101895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storm_dog_pirate/pseuds/storm_dog_pirate
Summary: An attempt on the head of the Lantsov Family's life has occurred under their noses, and it's up to the Underboss and her Consigliere to settle things the clean way or the dirty way.
Relationships: Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	Shadow and Soul

How Zoya could still find patience for the man in front of her was a mystery. But having more patience for the all-too-smiling Consigliere beside her was a skill she had acquired over the years, and as much as she wanted to strangle her lawyer companion, she couldn’t deny she was enjoying the look of rage on Anton Demidov’s eyes as he tried not to lash out his anger. The smug facade he was currently wearing wasn't able to keep the emotions from showing in his gaze. 

The small restaurant they were cramped in was humid enough to dry up what’s left of her restraint from wanting to tear the furious look from the man’s face, but she strengthened her resolve. There were several  _ other _ people dining in here with them, and it would be rude if she suddenly did something rather unlady-like to this gentleman in a suit. Besides, she did promise the infuriating blond that she would ‘be diplomatic for once’, as per his request. 

Perhaps she could try to be. 

“It’s a fair deal, dearest Anton,” said Nikolai to the Demidovs' caporegime, still grinning his usual crowd-winning smile. When his eyes cast down to Anton’s now clenched fist on the table, the glint of amusement in Nikolai’s eyes only became brighter. If there was something her Consigliere was good at, it was pushing another person’s buttons by merely smiling. “No more threats to the Lantsovs and no more operating the casino without our jurisdiction, and I will personally tell our enforcers to stop the assault on your family’s businesses. Possibly sprinkle a monthly cut from your profit into our pockets, too, no?"

Considering how Anton’s jaw twitched in annoyance only told Zoya that he didn’t like the deal at all. Having the upper hand over the Lantsovs meant being powerful enough to actually go against them, and considering that they were the most powerful among the families, it was a rather bold move to attempt murdering Alexander Lantsov. 

Ever since the day the Lantsov head was openly shot at, along with plenty of their men in the streets of Os Alta, Zoya had considered the move as an act of war and broke any peace treaties between their families. She led the attack on the biggest casino the Demidovs had in Kribirsk, effectively shutting the place down and cutting the third of the family’s investments. The assaults continued for the next two weeks, even the smallest businesses didn’t escape their wrath, until the Demidovs were backed to the corner and forced to surrender. 

If it were another circumstance, she would have stopped there. She knew they would have learned their lesson by that time. Yet the thought of failing to protect their chief because she hadn’t anticipated any attempts on his life that day only gave her enough reason to continue the attacks. 

"I would suggest listening to him. Do him a favor, will you? He loves talking,” Zoya said with unexpected calmness. She leaned back to a more comfortable position in her chair, reaching up to remove the first button by her collar. 

This must have brought the wrong impression on Anton's guards stationed by the far window to the left, and they were already reaching for their weapons from their holsters. She merely raised an eyebrow at them. 

Panic seized Anton’s eyes as he turned to his guards. He pointed a finger at them. “You’ve frisked them, right?” he demanded. Even though he tried to sound very much authoritative, the slight tremor in his voice didn't go unnoticed by Zoya. But the guards seemed to be oblivious of this, and still nodded nervously. “Then why are you all acting hostile? Stand down.”

Zoya snickered silently. So much for being the one to lead the assassination attempt but was already panicking over the smallest movement she made. She itched for her gun, which was unfortunately dismantled and held by Anton's right hand man as per their no weapons rule during business talks. Her shoulder holsters felt impossibly light without its presence. Maybe it was time to stop the bullshit that was called 'talking' and just start the real line of action. 

_ Patience, dearest Zoya, _ her infuriating Consigliere's voice echoed in her head. The way he was starting to rub off on her was terrifying.  _ It'd be a good thing to be diplomatic for once. _

"No need to be jumpy, Anton. It's just too humid in here." Zoya emphasized her statement by fanning herself with a hand. She heard Nikolai chuckle beside her. "Besides, it's not that I have any more weapons on me."

_ Come on, lash out at me _ , goaded Zoya in her mind.  _ Give me enough reason to finally take you down where you stand _ . 

Anton turned back to her and smiled tightly. "I'm aware of that, Miss Nazyalensky. But I can't blame my men for taking precautions, especially around someone who's known to be ruthless."

"I'm honored,  _ sir _ , but we can't as much as do anything considering the number of your guards in here with us." She shrugged, gesturing to her right. "There's just the four of us." 

Her eyes met the two lone guards of their own at the opposite side. Where they only brought the twins along with them for safety, was Anton Demidov’s unit of at least twenty men surrounding the place. She almost found it funny—he was the one to first make a threat over the Lantsovs and yet he was cowering in front of them.

Tamar made a face, gesturing crudely to the Demidov caporegime and making Zoya chuckle lightly. Her twin brother Tolya kicked her in the shin, but there was no denying the smile he was fighting to appear on his lips. Seeing their presence lightened the tense weight on her shoulders somehow, as she knew that they alone could take Demidov's men if things went south. 

And considering the stubborn set of Anton's jaw and the fury in his eyes, blood will surely be shed tonight.

Zoya glanced around the room, silently counting how many of his guards were inside the restaurant with them. She let her eyes wander for a few moments, and she was able to count at least eight. There were probably a few more she hadn't seen, but her eyes catching a woman in a bright red overcoat was enough to make her wince and look back to Demidov. 

"A rather powerful move," Nikolai said lowly, making her turn to him with a raised brow. There was a smirk playing on his lips as he continued to watch the other man, and it was a clear sign that he was quite enjoying seeing Demidov almost ready to explode. He leaned a bit closer to her ear. "It's really not the perfect time or place to take off your clothes, sir. But if you can make them squirm by doing just that, then be my guest. A little fun before the storm isn't so bad." 

Zoya rolled her eyes, her foot connecting solidly to his leg. He let out a muffled wheezed, and he covered it up by clearing his throat when Anton gave him a weird look. Knowing Nikolai was already stressful enough, but having him as her Consigliere and hearing him do the talking most of the time was  _ exhausting _ . 

But he got things done without having to use guns or knives. Words were his weapons, and though he was often mild and considerate during negotiations, he still wielded his words dangerously when circumstances deemed it necessary. 

"What do you say, Demidov?" Nikolai said, his grin returning. "It's a rather generous deal."

The table rattled as Anton's fist slammed down on it. "We will  _ not _ be your family's lapdog," he growled through gritted teeth. If he had been able to hold in his rage, now he was full on acting on it, just like Zoya had expected him to do. "You think you're all so powerful and strong just because you're controlling this city, but not to me." He looked at Nikolai with utter disgust. "I'm surprised Alexander even cared for his bastard enough to appoint him as Consigliere out of all designations."

Something snapped inside Zoya, feeling her suppressed rage flare back to the surface, and she was already considering tipping over the table to the man's face. But a hand enclosed around her wrist from under the table, the touch warm and familiar for her to know it was Nikolai. He must have sensed her sudden want to resort to the worst way. 

She risked a glance at him. A shadow had passed over his usual cheerful face, his eyes hard and empty as his jaw twitched in anger. Then a smile appeared on his lips a moment later, the sharp, wicked smile of a man who had reached the last straw of his patience. 

"Are getting personal now, Anton?" Nikolai said, his tone still surprisingly calm. "I thought it was all business?" 

"Oh, that's true. All business, Lantsov," Anton spat Nikolai’s name like a poison that stung his mouth. "And if I kill you right now, I can just report you for trespassing. It's still business, no? I'm just protecting my property." 

Zoya raised an eyebrow. "Is that an open threat?" she said flatly. “Do tell me if it is so we can settle this the way I know we both wanted from the start.”

"Depends on how you put it." Anton gestured to the door. "And if you both are smart enough, then that means you know your only choice is to leave."

So the Demidovs still chose not to have a ceasefire between the families. It was exactly how she expected this night would go. Nikolai owed her a drink later.

"You're acting way too brash for a caporegime," said Zoya as she reached for the cup in front of her to take a sip of the leftover coffee from an hour ago. "Are you sure your family could handle another attack in any of your remaining businesses?"

Anton looked almost smug. Confident, even, as if he suddenly had the upper hand against them. Oh, how Zoya hated to ruin his bravado. "As you've said, Nazyalensky, there's only four of you. So you should watch that tongue of yours."

A sneer threatened its way to her lips, but she didn't dare let it show. She wondered if he would still have the same smugness later, when she finally demonstrated the 'ruthlessness' Anton liked to describe her with. 

There was a tense silence around them, and if Zoya listened harder, she was sure she could hear the guards' heavy breathing even from ten meters away. She eyed the other exits—all guarded by Demidov's men. Even the twins' position to their right was at a disadvantage, they could be easily opened fire on if they weren't fast enough to take cover.

"Very well. It would not be a fair fight." She relented, making it sound as convincing as possible. She put the cup back on the table. "We will just leave."

The Demidov caporegime huffed but didn't say anything more. He leaned back on his chair, his triumphant smile never wavering. "I'm glad you're finally starting to think, Miss Nazyalensky." 

Another wave of annoyance, and what she could sense as her suppressed rage resurfacing, washed over her. She wrinkled her nose in displeasure. They should have just ambushed the caporegime on his way here. It would have been much easier. Plus, they could even save time and sanity for not going through this 'civilized' negotiation. In their world where power was the only thing to protect you, you should never give a chance to your enemy to take it from you. 

_ Eliminate and narrow down the list of your enemies. _

It was now up to Nikolai whether they would go through it or just leave. 

The Consigliere leaned back on the chair, his other hand reaching up to loosen his tie. There was a look of disappointment on his face, but his eyes said otherwise. He was already expecting this. "That was quite an exchange," he said with a shrug. Then he shook himself for a bit. "Wow, I think I need to use the restroom after all that. Do you mind if I go? Or should your guards come along to make sure I'm not doing anything out of the ordinary?" 

"Just get on with it and leave. I should have known this meeting was useless from the start." 

Nikolai feigned a hurtful look. "Oh, how harsh," he said dramatically. "But alright, your call." 

The hand that was still around Zoya's wrist loosened, his fingers coming around until his forefinger rested on her pulse point. Warmth erupted from where his skin met hers, and she tried not to let it distract her from the message he was trying to say. He had held her like this far too many times, had even been in a much closer proximity than now when their situation needed them be, and yet her heart still threatened to leap out of her chest whenever he touched her. 

_ Focus _ , her mind berated, and that’s when she felt it: his finger tapping on her skin twice. It was their go signal. They had made their own sign language over the past three years, when business talks and other matters got a bit out of hand and they needed to subtly communicate with the other. It was something that only the two of them knew of, and it definitely did wonders for them when words weren’t needed. 

Zoya gave him a pointed glance sideways as he stood up and let go of her wrist. It was the look that said,  _ I told you so, _ and she knew if they were somewhere else, Nikolai would have frowned and whined something back. But it wasn’t the time for it.

With one last squeeze to her wrist, he finally let go, straightening the lapels of his coat to show his disappointment on how the negotiation had gone. He cast one last glance to the Demidov caporegime before taking his leave and going to the restroom. Zoya let her gaze follow him until he disappeared around a corner. 

_ Please don't be a moron and find it,  _ she thought before standing up as well, reaching for his suitcase that was carelessly lying on the floor. 

One of Anton's guards, which she recognized as his right hand man, approached the table. He had a skeptical gaze on her, like he was readying himself to defend his boss if ever she decided to suddenly do something. 

She gave the man a cold smile, amusement bubbling in her chest when she saw him wince and look away to turn to his boss.

Zoya took the moment to glance at the twins and give them the smallest of nods. They immediately understood, with Tamar moving away from their spot to come nearer to the table. Tolya remained in his position, but he already had his hand braced on the holster around his hips. 

"That Consigliere of yours," Anton started, making Zoya look back at him. His second was holding up the coat to him, and he turned to shrug it on back to his shoulders. "He really does love talking, doesn't he? It might be the reason he gets killed one day.”

_ As if I would let that happen. _ It made her eyebrows furrow, her gaze narrowing dangerously to the caporegime. He had been making a lot of subtle threats to them, and Zoya wasn’t letting it slide. Only one family would be walking out from this place tonight.

And it wasn’t going to be the Demidovs.

“Worry not, Anton,” said Zoya, her cold smile returning, “I’ll make sure to tell him that.” 

“Tell me what?” Nikolai’s too cheery voice echoed a moment later, and Zoya turned to his direction and saw him approaching them. He had stripped off his long coat, leaving him in his shirt and tie. Her eyes went to the coat he was holding. The way it was folded on his hand looked enough for it to conceal something, and she could only assume he found it.

“Nothing of importance, dearest Consigliere,” Zoya mused, reaching for her own coat hanging on the chair’s backrest. “Just some gibberish, though I can tell you about it later.”

Nikolai chuckled. “I do hope it’s not something alarming,” he said. Then he stepped in front of her, his hand catching her wrist again to stop her from putting on her coat. Then with a small smile that softened his features, he murmured, “Let me.”

She let him take her coat from her hand, and gently, he helped her slip it on. To others, it would look like a normal sight; a man assisting his Underboss like any other members of the family would. But if one were to look closely, it was actually just an act to cover something up. 

Zoya looked up at his eyes with mock respect when there was the familiar weight of a weapon being slipped back to her shoulder holster. Nikolai made a face in return.

_ I found it _ , he mouthed with a wince. Then he tugged at the lapels of the coat a bit roughly, as if to get back at her for doubting him, and it earned a glare from Zoya. He smiled innocently, then his hands came up to the back of her neck to free her hair that was caught up in the collar. She tried not to get distracted by his ministrations, but she found it hard when he reached her collar, fixing it down to make it presentable. They were too close, the act anything if not intimate, and her breath hitched in her throat when his fingers lingered a moment too long on the side of her neck.

Then she felt the soft brush of his thumb against her jaw; it was enough to stop her thoughts altogether. 

But Nikolai only winked, a cheeky smile evident on his lips before he stepped back. Zoya wanted nothing more than to strangle him right then. But then again, it wasn’t the time for it. Perhaps later. 

She regained her stoic composure, walking over to Anton Demidov who had been completely oblivious of the exchange. It was only out of respect that she still would end their meeting with a handshake. If there was something she refused to let go in her morals, it was respect. 

Zoya held her hand out to Anton. The man was hesitant, but still took it anyway. “Well, I bid you farewell, Sir Demidov,” she said with a cutting smile, her grip tightening around his hand enough for him to look alarmed. “It’s a pleasure having the chance to talk to you.”

Then her other hand reached to her holster, grabbed the gun Nikolai had put there, and shot Anton Demidov in the leg.

The man crumpled down on the floor, a scream tearing from his throat as he clutched at his wound. Horror was evident in his gaze as he looked up at her. His right-hand didn’t have time to draw his weapon when another shot rang out from somewhere behind Zoya, hitting the man on his shooting arm, and he dropped to the ground as well. Anton’s several other guards with them started to spring to action, but it was the exact time that  _ all  _ the people dining in the restaurant stood up, drawing out their own weapons and surrounding the Demidov associates.

Outside, gunfire echoed as well. Then after a few moments, it went silent again.

Zoya looked around the expanse of the room. Anton’s remaining guards stood completely frozen in their places as dozens of guns pointed to their direction. She hummed in approval and looked over her shoulder, seeing Tamar still holding her gun to the right-hand man’s direction. 

_ Thanks _ , Zoya mouthed to the woman, who in return tipped her head in acknowledgement. 

“As I’ve said earlier,” she started, waving the barrel of her gun down to Anton’s face, “it would not be a fair fight.”

“What—what is the meaning of this?” Anton demanded, his voice quivering in both terror and pain. He tried to back away from Zoya, but someone had already stopped him with a foot on his shoulder. 

She looked up and saw the woman who wore the bright red overcoat that made her eyes hurt, and Zoya gave her an unamused look. “Something a bit tamer next time, Genya?” she said. “It’s a bit overwhelming to look at. Maybe a maroon.”

Genya laughed lightly. “Of course, anything you say, sir.”

Zoya nodded in gratitude before she turned back to Anton, who was still on the ground. “This night could have gone well, you know? All we wanted was your approval for a ceasefire. But here you were, acting all too smug for a family whose reputation is almost down the drain and making empty threats that you have no power to do.” She stepped forward, jabbing her foot down the man’s injured leg and earning another scream from him. “Well, wasn’t it you who pulled the trigger on the Don? Now man up, take it like a champ.”

“How” —Anton wheezed out in pain— “how is this possible? My men have frisked you and your Consigliere.”

Nikolai appeared beside her, looking casual in his posture as if he had come to a reunion with some old friends. “Simple. You don’t check the customers coming into your business,” he explained. “Another civilian could enter the same restroom earlier before the Consigliere, and he could have slipped a weapon and taped it under the sink.” He shook his head with a dramatic sigh. “Only goes to show how shit your security is, by the way.”

The Demidov caporegime could only look at them in disbelief, his eyes going back and forth to Zoya and her Consigliere. Then a laugh escaped him, the loud, desperate kind of a madman. She almost pitied him. The feeling of being backed against the corner having nothing other than yourself to trust and lean on.

She would commend this man for fighting tooth and nail for his Family’s survival and reputation, and yet he had chosen the wrong way to do it by trying to assassinate one of the biggest Dons in the country and starting a war. There were some battles that were out of one’s reach and power, and it had been the Demidovs to take the risk and lose everything to their wrong decisions.

Anton continued laughing for another long moment, his breaths becoming more labored the longer he laughed. Then when it seemed that he finally ran out of air, he looked back up to her. If Zoya was expecting to see defeat in his eyes, then she was so wrong. 

Because in them, she saw nothing but cold fury, the kind that brought a lingering feeling of dread in your chest. If she were some other person, she was sure she would have cowered back and let fear take over. 

But that was before she knew what horrors the world they lived in now did to young and naive girls. Fear was one’s shadow, something they could never go against nor get rid of, so she learned how to wield it as her weapon instead. 

“What are you going to do now? Kill me?” Anton said, another laugh escaping his lips. He had already gone pale from the loss of blood, but he continued. “Killing me would only make things worse. It’s not going to change anything.”

Nikolai pretended to consider a thought, his eyebrows furrowing. “You’re right,” he said. “But I think I have an idea.” He stepped forward, and Zoya handed him her gun. 

Without wasting another second, he pointed the gun to Anton’s other leg and pulled the trigger. The beginning of a howl tore from the caporegime’s throat, and he hadn’t even had the chance to fully voice out his pain when Nikolai shot him again on the shoulder.

Zoya blinked in surprise, the gears in her mind working as she looked back to Nikolai. Gone was the diplomatic look of the Consigliere, only the face of the Demon Prince remained, the same persona that terrorized the streets of Halmhend City for years. His eyes held a dangerous glint that she only saw him have for his sworn enemies. 

“That’s not even the same number of bullets my father took when you tried to murder him in the open,” Nikolai said mildly. “But don’t worry, I made sure not to hit you anywhere critical. Killing you will get you an easy way out. I don’t want that.” He kneeled down beside Anton, leaning dangerously close to the man with the barrel of the gun planted on his chest. “I want you to see how your Family despises you because you couldn’t let go of your ego and accept that you’ve made a grave mistake. I’ve offered a ceasefire, but you didn’t take it. So I guess you’d rather take a few bullets, then?” 

Through his labored breathing and pained state, Anton still managed to glare at the Consigliere. The man’s got determination, Zoya would give him that. But he had made the worst decision of having Nikolai as his enemy. 

There was another tense silence, and then Nikolai was laughing lightly, patting the caporegime on the cheek. Just like that, he was back to the cheerful Consigliere persona. “I like this one,” he told Anton’s right-hand man who lay a few feet away from them, a look of fear in his eyes. “Fiery soul. Make sure he’s back to his feet in a few days, alright? I want to see what Irina would do to him.”

Zoya shook her head and watched as Nikolai stood up and handed back the gun to her. He looked back at her with a confused expression.

“What?”

“Nothing. Remind me again not to strangle you next time you do something brash?” She turned to their men who were still patiently waiting for their next order. “Get them out to the other side of the street. Make sure they’re easily seen by their colleagues when they arrive.”

Their men immediately did as they were told, shuffling out of the restaurant quietly as they dragged the Demidov Family’s associates to the streets. Tamar and Tolya waited for the both of them by the front doors. 

“Was that even necessary?” Zoya asked the Consigliere, who shrugged in return.

“It’s only fair I’ve wounded him. It’s nothing compared to the men he’d killed in the ambush as we haven’t even taken any of his men’s heads.” Nikolai said, putting his long coat back on. “I have actually talked to Irina Demidov yesterday. She told me to get rid of him.” 

Having a talk with the Demidov’s Underboss only meant bad news. “Really?”

“Yeah, but I’ll let them handle it. Besides, they twist the fact that we killed one of their caporegime against us. We both know their history.” 

Zoya huffed. “Good thinking,” she said. 

“There’s a reason why I am indeed a Consigliere, Nazyalensky,” said Nikolai, feigning a hurtful look. “I’m not all talk and no action.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.” She paused when her eyes caught sight of the messed up knot of his tie. Her hands were already reaching to fix it before she could even realize what she was doing, and she heard his breath hitch in his throat. At least she wasn’t the only one who got caught off guard when the other was near. 

She finally finished straightening his tie after a few more moments, patting down at his collar for emphasis. “There you go,” said Zoya. Her voice coming out a bit breathless than she intended was something she hadn’t expected from herself. “Now we’re even.” She stepped back, putting a bit of distance between them and looking anywhere but him. “Let’s get out of here before the Demidovs arrive to get their associates.”

***

And as the car sped into the distance some time later, the place where the restaurant the Demidovs owned was now nothing but ashes on the ground. 


End file.
